


Shadows and Stardust

by thefoodwiththedood



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rebels, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Devaronians, Gen, Rebellion, Science Fiction, Spaceships, War, Zabraks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-28
Updated: 2017-06-28
Packaged: 2018-11-20 08:16:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11331924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thefoodwiththedood/pseuds/thefoodwiththedood
Summary: A young Zabrak, Cerate Evis, is taken under the wing of a Devaronian Jedi-turned-rebel, Hes Chaddic, who, after enough goading, agrees to teach him the ways of the Force. Over their journey Cerate will learn of the Force, yes, but he'll learn so much more: about life, love, happiness, sacrifice, identity, and his greater destiny within the Galaxy.





	Shadows and Stardust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our hero awakens from his nap.

My eyes fluttered open, squinting at the sunlight spilling in from the window above me. I sat up, and the kicked-up dust around me began to dance in the sunbeam. Groggily, I raised my arms above my head to stretch, and as I brought them back down to my sides I began to remember there was a world around me—something I tended to forget about during my midday naps. To my right was the holobook I’d been reading before I’d dozed off: an epic about a hero who discovers his destiny by accident, yet nonetheless goes on to fulfill it. Admittedly, it was a bit of an unrealistic story. I was always told that “destiny” is just something people made up to feel less purposeless in life, and in many respects I think that’s true—but it’s still a fun thought, isn’t it? Anyway, also to my right was the rest of my books: a small, hand-curated library containing everything from the history of the planet Corellia to comics about daring pilots and adventurers. To my left was my stash of snacks, accumulated in small portions over time as to not arouse suspicion. All this was huddled around a small pile of pillows atop a tattered comforter, set under a string of small paper lanterns I’d put up to give me reading light at night. This was my hangout—my own, orderly sanctuary within my chaotic world.

Remembering said world, I quickly looked at the watch on my wrist-com to see how long I’d slept. The others went out not long before, and the last thing I wanted was to miss their return. But when I checked, I was relieved to find it was only four in the afternoon—it’d only been two hours. I breathed a sigh of relief and fell back into my pillows, but my relief came with a realization. The others wouldn’t be back for another hour—at least, five was the rough estimate they gave me. “Well great”, I thought, “now I gotta find a way to kill some time.” I thought about going back to my book, but when I tried I found I was too excited to focus on anything for too long. Curious, I pulled myself up to the window and looked out at the horizon to see if their ships were near. Unfortunately, nothing but the familiar dense jungle vines and green skies of Devaron greeted me. So, with nothing else to do, for a moment I just laid among the pillows and kicked my feet aimlessly, but after that got boring I decided to get up and see what was going on in the rest of the base.

I should mention that my hangout was only a small loft among the rafters of a larger building, separated from the main room by only a balcony and a ladder. The building used to be a weapons factory—one of the many used by the republic to fuel their war effort. Though the factory had long since been abandoned, it had found new life as a home and base of operations for our “efforts,” if they could be called that. From the balcony, I looked down at the main floor of the former factory. Crates of food, supplies, and munitions were stacked in orderly piles here and there, and towards the back of the room sat a row of starfighters, half of them stolen and the other half cobbled together from spare parts. Also in back was a large, open area: a perfect spot for a “main hall” sort of space. Peppered in between all of it were a few Devaronians: the horned men and the fur-covered women alike, all dressed in similar burgundy-colored uniforms. Some sat together at tables, playing sabacc and drinking bootlegged alcohol. Others worked on repairing or modifying their ships and weapons, some even sparring with each other. Some just wandered around the base, waiting for their comrades to return from their mission.

The true centerpiece of the room, however, was the massive symbol emblazoned on the far wall: painted in bright gold and violet was a giant, horned skull, with two massive bird-like wings on either side of it. It was meant to look intimidating and powerful, but I always saw it as a symbol of hope—while others saw a demon with wings, I saw an angel with horns. That’s exactly what we were called, too. Devaron’s Angels—the brave souls who would rescue our planet from the Empire’s tyranny.

Just as my eyes met the skull’s empty sockets, I began to hear the sound of engines behind me—the others had come back early! I ran to the window and pulled myself up to look out, just in time to see their three ships approaching from the west: two YV freighters, and a large bomber flying between them. The freighters were plain as any other ship, but the bomber was a sight to behold—it was a Freefall-class, with extra engines and guns slapped on wherever there was room. It was painted a brilliant dark burgundy as well, accented by gold and violet decals on its wings and a skull painted across its nose. Next to its cockpit window was the ship’s name, painted in black: ”Lady Lucy”, the de-facto flagship of the Angels’ fleet. 

My face lit up as I watched the ships come in, and I immediately ran and slid down my ladder to the factory’s main floor. Evidently everyone else had heard the ships, too, and already there was a crowd amassing around the middle of the room. Just as I moved in to join them, the factory’s main doors began to part, and as they creaked to a halt the three ships flew inside. The freighters parted ways and landed in the frontmost corners of the factory, while the Lady Lucy continued to the back of the room before swinging around and touching down, right below the gold and violet skull. 

Instantly, the crowd began to buzz. All around me I heard laughter and cheers as the crews of the freighters disembarked, and the excitement only grew once their haul was brought out. Not wanting to get caught in the fray, I climbed up onto one of the many piles of crates. From there I looked down at the freighters’ cargo: stacked next to one were weapons’ caches and fuel canisters, while the other looked to be carrying crates of food and drinks. You could imagine which one people flocked to first; without hesitation the food crates were raided, and soon I could see people happily munching on nuna legs and swigging from whiskey bottles. While most feasted, I saw others form circles around the freighters’ crews, and even from atop my perch I could tell they were already relaying the story of the mission. As the red and white wave of celebrating soldiers swept in around the the freighters, horns and tufts of fur bouncing this way and that, I couldn’t help but smile. It was everything the Angels fought for, all in one place. Equality and friendship among men and women. Enough food to go around. Celebration and happiness. And most importantly, a life without fear of the Empire. In a way, watching everyone get drunk and pig out was sort of beautiful.

Not only that, but it was making me hungry. Carefully, I slid myself down the pile of crates towards the food-bearing freighter, but as I reached the floor something stopped me and everyone else in our tracks.

“Ey, dickheads!” from the back of the room, a gruff yet bold voice spoke up, its words mixed in with the sound of metal clanging against metal. Everyone looked back towards the voice and, sure enough, it was miss Vonnie D’ruexieq. She was among the higher-ranking members of the Angels, not to mention only pilot trusted to fly Lucy. I still remember the way she stood clear as day: one hand on her hip, the other knocking a half-busted stormtrooper helmet against Lucy’s fuselage, all punctuated by an annoyed look on her face. At least, that what I figured she looked like—her unkept, bleach-blond hair almost always covered her eyes. “If you fine gentlemen and ladies are all done stuffin’ ya ugly faces,” she continued after getting everyone’s attention, “then I suggest you getcha slimy carcasses over here—Hes’s got somethin’ to say”

At the mention of the name “Hes”, the crowd was thrown into yet another frenzy. The mob quickly shifted towards the bomber, and as they swept in around me my view was all but blocked out. I tried my best to worm my way through the fray, but in everyone’s excitement I was easily overlooked—by all but one, that is. As I continued to push through the crowd, a hand on my shoulder and a hearty, sonorous voice to my right stopped me.

“Hey kid,” the voice said, “need a lift?” I turned, and my eyes met those of Russoc Dhaalgondt, his sharp-toothed smile as warm and kind as ever. Russ was always cool that way—even though he was about the biggest, toughest soldier the Angels’ had, he was also about the nicest. He reminded me of a dad—not that I thought of him as a father, it’s just that he seemed like the kind of guy who had kids at one time in his life. He had that sense of mellowness that raising kids sometimes brings, y’know? Speaking of raising kids, I smiled and nodded back at him, and without hesitation he raised me up and set me on his shoulders. From there I had full view of the Lady Lucy, just in time to see the the ship’s top hatch open.

From the hatch emerged a tall, imposing woman, clad from head to toe in scuffed, maroon-painted armor. The bright orange eyes of her horned helmet scanned the crowd before her, and as she stepped forward the gold-and-violet Devaron’s Angels emblem painted above her heart gleamed in the afternoon sun. A hush fell over the room as she reached the bomber’s nose, and from there she stood with her arms crossed, still looking out over the crowd. Silently, she extended a hand out to her left, and without hesitation Vonnie tossed the broken helmet up to her. She raised it above her head, and she began to address the crowd.

“My friends,” she began, the filters of her helmet giving her voice a loud, metallic echo, “you all know me well. You know that, when I speak to you, I try to speak as a leader should—like I have all the answers, like I could feel no sorrow,” she paused, setting the broken helmet on the ground and putting her hands on her own. With a click, she lifted it off of her head, allowing her pointed ears and her thick, dark red ponytail to spring free. A smile crossed her freckled face, and even from as far back as I was I could see the proud glow in her eyes as she took in the sight of the crowd. 

Her name was Hes Chaddic: freedom fighter, proud Devaronian, and the greatest friend I would ever know.

Remembering her speech, Hes bent down to pick the stormtrooper helmet back up, still holding hers at her side. “But today,” she continued, her voice sounding much more clear and melodic, “today I wanna speak as a fellow soldier—a fellow survivor,” she paused, setting her own helmet down on Lucy’s hull. Still holding the stormtrooper helmet in one hand, she slid down the front of Lucy’s nose, landing at the front of the crowd. She walked forward, and I could see the people part around her, as if to get in her way was an unthinkable offense. She stopped, raising the broken helmet up once more. “Lets let one ‘a the older guys refresh our memory,” she continued, “where were the Angels, only a year ago today?”

In the back of the crowd, a hand went up. Without hesitation, Hes tossed the helmet back to whoever it was, and an old, gravelly voice spoke up. “we just made it back from Serat,” he said, “after our...defeat…”. Seemingly not wanting to say anything more, he threw the helmet back to Hes.

“Exactly,” she continued as she caught the helmet, “that’s the Battle of Montellian Serat, for any ‘a you newer recruits,” she paused, hanging her head. She began to speak more softly, with the seriousness of what she was saying evident in her voice. “It was supposed to be our moment—the day we finally stuck it to the Empire. The day we would change Devaron forever. We gave them everything we had; all our soldiers, all our weapons, all our supporters and allies at our side—we pulled out all the stops. All told, seven hundred went to fight...” she paused again, seemingly struggling to keep her composure, “...only twenty returned. Thirteen men. Seven Women. Plus a droid or two. The rest were...massacred…” she stopped for a moment, and the rest of the Angels hung their heads along with her, sharing in her sorrow. I hung mine as well, for I remembered that day clearly. I of course hadn’t gone out to fight, but I’ll never forget how the survivors looked when they returned from Serat. Bloodied, beaten, faces streaked with raindrops and teardrops alike—they’d left as the proud warriors I’d grown up watching and admiring, like gods to my young eyes. They returned as mortals. I’d never seen them so defeated. I’d never seen anyone as sad or angry as Hes was that night.

“Ey, y’know what, though?” Hes finally spoke up, a spark of optimism returning to her voice, “I hate depressing shit like that. After all, why should we be sad? Sure, we lost a lotta good soldiers and a lot of our progress that day, but think of it this way,” she raised the broken helmet high, and she raised her voice to a proud, orotund yell, “we were beaten bad, but we sure as hell haven’t lost—they aimed to kill us off, but we survived!” with that, the crowd began to clap and cheer, but as Hes waved the helmet around again they quieted down—she wasn’t done yet. 

“And we didn’t just survive,” she continued, lowering her voice just a bit, “we thrived, baby—go ahead, people, look around,” she waved her free hand around the factory floor, and the heads of the crowd began to swivel in all directions, “look at what we’ve got—all that we’ve built since that defeat. Together, we’ve gotten in a years time where it took us ten years to get before—we got the best weapons, the best ships, the best base,” she paused, scanning the faces closest to her. “And most importantly, we got the best people,” without hesitation, she grabbed the nearest guy by the horns and pulled him close, determined grins crossing both of their faces. “We got Devaron’s most loyal sons and daughters—the proud few who’d rather fight for freedom than live under someone else’s boot,” she released the soldier’s horns and turned her attention to another—a younger lady this time—grabbing the back of her neck and pulling her close in as well. “We got with us the girls and boys who’re gonna free this planet—and no one, especially not that wrinkled old nutsack of an emperor and his spineless buckethead cronies, is gonna hold us back!” the crowd continued to cheer and holler, even more so as Hes continued to speak. “If they think they can clip these angels’ wings without a fight, then they got another kriffin’ thing comin’!” Even Hes began to cheer along with the crowd, seemingly on the verge of jumping into the fray herself as the soldiers’ chants and shouts grew wilder and wilder. She began to walk back towards the Lady Lucy, one fist pumping in the air, the other clanging the stormtrooper helmet against the skull above her heart, all in harmony with both her steps and the mob’s rampant cries. Even over the clamor, I could make out what they were chanting: “Hes! Hes! Hes! Hes!”, all in one, unified rhythm.

As Hes climbed back up on the bomber’s nose, smoothing out her ruffled hair and smiling wide. As the crowd quieted down a little, she continued to speak. “So to summarize, this is what I got to say,” she paused, and the entire room went quiet along with her. “Don’t you ever forget what we’ve lived through, and don’t you ever forget what we’ve lost,” she paused again, letting the statement sink in, “and at the same time, always remember: saving this planet from the Empire is our responsibility, and unless we accomplish that goal, all of those hardships, all of that loss...it’ll all be in vain,” she paused once more, before bursting out in another stentorian shout, “so I say we give it all we got, and show those imperial kriffsticks what Devaron’s made of!” Once again the crowd roared to life, applauding and shouting in agreement. 

“For now, though,” she continued, “I say we celebrate: let us revel in our success, honor our friends’ memories, eat, drink, and be merry—after this year, we all deserve it!” Hes held up her empty hand, and instantly one of the bottles of whiskey from the freighters’ cargo flew through the air and landed in her open palm. With one hand she popped off the cork, and as she raised the bottle high above her head a hundred other hands in the crowd went up, holding everything from bottles and nuna legs to lighters and blasters. “A toast, then,” she began again, “to our friends, our fortune, our fight, and our freedom!”

With a resounding cry of “Hear, hear!”, Hes tipped her bottle back and downed its contents in one swig, before suddenly smashing the bottle on Lucy’s cockpit window and letting out a victorious shout. “Now one ‘a you asshats get some food and some music goin’—let’s rock this bitch!” Her words were met with another chorus of hurrahs and alleluias, and soon the sounds of breaking bottles and blaster shots were added to the clamor. In the fray of it all, I caught Hes jumping off of Lucy and heading back to her quarters out of the corner of my eye. I gently shook Russ’s shoulders, and with a quick, curious glance upward he seemed to remember I was there. He gently set me back down, and with a quick “thank you!” back to him I ran over to the freighter carrying the food.

Squeezing my way through the crowd took longer than I thought, but eventually I was able to make it back to Hes’s room, a nuna leg in each hand. I lightly knocked my elbow against the door, and a second later it slid open to reveal Hes. She’d changed out of her armor by the time I’d gotten there, instead donning the Angels’ standard-issue outfit: a black tank top, dark red cargo pants, and combat boots. She stepped forward, looking confusedly above me at first. As she looked down, however, her eyes lit up and a smile spread across her lips. “Oh, hey Cer!” she said, stepping aside, “I was just about to go and find you—c’mon in, man!”

“Hey Hes!” I replied, walking in and sitting on my bunk. Ever since she took me in, Hes and I had shared a room. I think it’s just because she wanted to keep an eye on me—that, or she just liked my company. “So,” I asked, “how’d the raid on the Assarda base go?”

“Oh, man, it was awesome!” she replied, smiling proudly as she took one of the nuna legs from my hand and sat opposite me. “At first it was going all smoothly, right? But then all these stormtroopers came out, and we couldn’t get the freighters in past ‘em! So what’d we do? I had Vonnie fly in real low-like, and me n’ Russ just let loose on ‘em with the turrets—and they just ran off! We were all like ‘pewpewpew!’ and they were like ‘aaahnostop!’—it was hilarous, man. We thought we had ‘em then, but then they came back all sneak-attacky once we got the freighters inside, so we…” as she continued to relay her story and munch heartily on nuna meat, I sat on the edge of the bed, listening like it was the most epic thing I’d ever hear. Part of me knew she was just playing it up to impress me, but another part of me just loved seeing her get so excited—fighting imperials was what Hes lived for, and getting to tell me about it was her and my favorite part of the job.

As her story petered out, she chuckled a bit at my wide-eyed expression. “Yeah, it was cool—but hey, tell me about your day! What all was goin’ on around here?”

“Oh, um...nothing really special,” I tried to think of what I’d done that day, but it all seemed boring in comparison to her exploits. “I got halfway done with that new book, though,” I finally said after thinking on it.

“Hey, that’s awesome!” she replied, tossing her now-bare nuna bone in a waste basket to her right. “How is it?”

“It’s pretty good so far,” I said, tossing mine as well, “not as cool as your adventures, though,”

“Whaaat?” she replied, feigning disbelief, “C’mon Cer, fighting the empire isn’t that amazing—it’s mostly just shooting stormtroopers, stealing supplies, and trying not to die”

“But that all sounds so fun! And not only that, but you get to help people, and they see you as a hero—I just wish I could be apart of that, y’know?”

“Oh kriff,” she said, “You’re gonna ask to come along on one again, aren’t you?” I’d been asking to come along on missions for years, but Hes said no every time.

“Come on, Hes, I can handle it!” I exclaimed, sitting up to face her, “I mean, you always come back fine, don’t you? How hard can it be?”

“I come back alive because I’ve been fighting in battles all my life—I know what I’m doing,” she reminded me, sounding much more stern than earlier, “you don’t have that kind of experience”

She wasn’t wrong. With a disappointed grunt, I mumbled “well how am I ever gonna experience anything if I’m stuck here?” before flopping back down on my bed.

Hes sighed—I wasn’t wrong, either. “Look, Cerate,” she said, taking on a softer tone, “It’s not like I don’t wanna bring you along—in fact, I’ll bet you’re gonna be one of our best men one day,” she paused, trying to find the words, “I just don’t wanna risk you getting hurt—I may sugarcoat it sometimes, but rebelling against the Empire is no cakewalk. You could get yourself killed if you’re not careful,”

“I can be careful, I promise!” I paused and lowered my voice, trying to sound more persuasive, “Besides, you’re out there risking your life every day—wouldn’t it be fair for me to be out there, too?”

She chuckled a bit. “Yeah, I guess so…” she sat silently for a moment, her hand on her chin, “Okay, tell ya what—I’ll think about it,” she smiled, “but that’s all I’m promising for now”

“Yes!” I cried, shooting my arms victoriously into the air. Hes laughed—I guess she liked seeing me excited as much as I did with her. Though through her good-humoured facade, I could sense a hint of unease; I could tell she still wasn’t fully willing to bring me anywhere near a fight. I was determined to prove her wrong, though—even knowing I could die in the process. I was stupid like that when I was twelve.

“Oh, hey, I just remembered!” Hes suddenly said, standing up and walking towards a backpack by the door, “I got the stuff you wanted while I was out—catch!” she threw the bag to me, and a smile spread across my face as I started digging through its contents: a couple new holobooks, some music discs, and a canister of fresh jogan fruits. Without hesitation I grabbed one out and took a bite, a barely-decipherable “Thanks!” escaping my lips as I chewed.

Hes laughed again, but it was cut short as she heard a knock on the door. She slid it open to reveal Vonnie, her obscured eyes still looking down at her datapad as she walked in. “Ey Hes,” she said, nonchalantly propping herself up against the doorframe. She noticed I was there too, and she cast a friendly smile in my direction. I smiled and waved back, but I didn’t say anything—my cheeks were full of jogan again. “Our scouts just reported back from Tikaroo,” Vonnie said, turning back to face Hes.  
Immediately, Hes went into all-business mode. “Talk to me” she said flatly as Vonnie handed her the datapad. 

As she scrolled through, Vonnie relayed a truncated version of their findings, and I listened in intently yet covertly. “The city’s crawlin’ with imps,” she explained, mimicking Hes’s serious tone, “not clustered or anythin’, just spread thin ‘round town—somethin’ like a bucket or two at every street corner,”

“Nothing we can’t handle,” Hes replied, smiling ever so slightly—knowing her, she was probably looking forward to bashing those stormtroopers’ helmets together. “Any Devo army guys we’ve gotta worry about?”

“Not a one—by my guess, they’re over in Serat, keepin’ the ‘peace’”

“Great, then we won’t have to watch our aim” it was Hes’s rule that no Devaronian soldiers be killed in the Angels’ missions. Even though they served Devaron’s imperial-loyal government, she tried to keep native casualties to a minimum—not only did it help public opinion, but Devaronian lives saved were always a good thing to Hes. “And what about our contact over there? Any word back from him?”

“Kivas is still on board, yeah—even closed up his shop for the weekend, so no one’ll think to look for Lucy there”

“Awesome! Have the supply canisters and the ships prepped by o-five hundred—we’ll start the drop at o-nine, and we’ll rendezvous back here at noon once things have calmed down”

I quickly swallowed the last bit of fruit before speaking up at that last bit. “Drop? You mean we’re bombing Tikaroo?!”

“What? No, no!” Hes exclaimed, laughing embarrassedly, “We’re dropping relief supplies—food, meds, all that stuff. We gotta be in and outta there as fast as we can, though, and Lucy’s the only ship quick enough do it—we just load up her bomb bay with supply canisters, make a pass or two over the city, and we’re home free!”

“If we try and fly Lucy in broad daylight, though, she’ll get shot down before we get within two clicks ‘a Tikaroo,” Vonnie continued, “so we gotta fly her in while it’s still sorta dark and load up the supplies all covert-like—should go pretty smooth”

“Smooth, huh?” I said, smiling, “smooth enough that it could work for a training mission?”

Hes smiled back at me, crossing her arms and rolling her eyes. Vonnie looked confused, so Hes filled her in. “Cer’s been asking to come along again—I’m still not sure he’s ready, though”

“Ahh,” Vonnie replied, looking at me inquisitively. After a pause, she shrugged her shoulders and turned back to Hes. “It ain’t my choice, I know, but I say ya let him come—long as he stays outta trouble, an extra body’s never a bad thing. Besides, like he said: it’ll be a good mission for training”

Hes looked at Vonnie, then back at me, seemingly considering her options. Finally, with a sigh and a smile, she spoke. “Alright, fine—you can come, but just this once. We’ll save the harder missions for when you’re a bit older, ‘kay?”

My eyes lit up, and I immediately ran to her, wrapping my arms around her waist and pulling her into a hug. “Thank you!” I yelled, “I promise, you won’t regret it!”

“Okay, okay, no need to get sappy with me,” Hes laughed, gently returning the embrace. There was still a hint of hesitation in her voice, but I felt like she was finally warming up to the idea. Vonnie’s endorsement certainly helped. “Just stay safe, and you’ll do just fine—got that, soldier?”

“Yes, sir!” I replied, putting my hand to my forehead in a faux-salute and breaking into excited giggling immediately after.

“Well ey, if we’re all done talkin’ mission stuffs,” Vonnie interrupted, “The boys wanted me to drag ya out to the party—you’re the one we’re wantin’ to celebrate, after all,” she smiled wide, and her voice took on a high, sing-songy tone, “we even got the karaoke machine set up!”

“Oh, hell yeah!” Hes shouted, high-fiveing Vonnie excitedly. “Cer,” she said, turning back to me, “You wanna come party, too? If you’re old enough to fight the Empire, you might just be old enough for a drink or two!”

I laughed at the thought of it, but in truth I’d never really liked alcohol; I tried it once, and it just sorta tasted like soggy, stale bread to me. “Nah, I’ll just hang out here—you go have fun!”

“Alright, we’ll catch ya later!” Hes said, closing the door behind her and Vonnie. 

Suddenly, I was alone again. The room was quiet, save for the distant echo of celebrating soldiers outside. For a minute I just sat on the bed, but as the realization set in that I was finally going to be apart of the Angels, my face lit up and I jumped into the air, shouting victoriously to no one at all. As I calmed down, I let myself fall back onto my bunk, still smiling and laughing. Cerate Evis: freedom fighter. With a sigh, I closed my eyes and imagined it: my future. I’d fight with Hes and the Angels, and together we’d liberate Devaron and defeat the Empire once and for all. I was gonna be a hero—of that, I was more sure than anything else.

Right then, though, I was still just a kid in a bed. With a sigh I accepted this, and I decided thinking about it as much as I was would only make the hours crawl by slower. So instead, I pulled out one of the new holobooks from the backpack next to me, clicked its blue screen on, and began to read.

. . .

After what was definitely more than a few hours, I finally finished the last page of the holobook. It was another adventure epic—this time about a great warrior who, after her war is won, drifts around the galaxy in search of a purpose, and identity, and a home. With a contented sigh, I flicked its screen off and sunk down into my bed, reflecting silently on the story. I began to think about what its message could be, but my thinking was cut short pretty quickly—as soon as I set the book on my nightstand, the room’s door slid open and Hes stumbled in.

“Whoo!” she cried, obviously still in a party mood, “What a kriffin’ night, baby!” even from the other end of the room, I could smell the alcohol on her breath. She wasn’t totally drunk, though—tipsy, definitely, but still seemingly competent. Hes was no lightweight to begin with, but coupled with Devaronian’s natural resistance to alcohol, getting her even a little drunk was no easy task. She plopped happily onto her bunk after making her way across the room, still laughing as she kicked off her boots and rolled over onto her stomach. “Man, Cer, you missed out—we got that good Assarda booze n’ everything,”

I chuckled a bit—everyone always said Assardans made the best liquor on Devaron, but it all just tasted like bread water to me. “Whatever, I was busy reading these new books anyways” I replied, gesturing to the backpack. “Glad you guys had fun, though!”

“Pfft, nerd,” Hes smiled jokingly—it was actually her who was always urging me to read. It’s not that I didn’t enjoy it, she just wanted me to learn as much as I could; she couldn’t exactly send me to an actual school, so books were the next best option. “How far’d you get?”

“I got through a whole book!” I replied proudly, “The one about the warrior lady”

“Damn kid, you’re gettin’ quick with those!” she exclaimed, equally as proud. “I hope you’re not already burnt out on stories, though, ‘cause it’s bedtime,”

She was right—it was already midnight, which meant it was time for one of Hes’s famous bedtime stories. “C’mon Hes,” I replied, already getting under my blankets, “I’m almost thirteen; technically a teen! Don’t you think I’m getting old for bedtime stories?” I totally wasn’t—I loved Hes’s stories, but I wasn’t about to admit that.

“Cer, you’re already old enough to be fighting with the Angels—you’re growing up way too fast for me,” she said, smiling, “Let me at least keep you as a kid for this, okay?” I smiled and nodded back to her—though Hes played a lot of things up and acted sarcastic for laughs, I could tell she meant that. There were some things you could just tell she really meant. “Now,” she continued, “What story do you wanna hear tonight?”  
I laid silently for a little while, recalling the hundreds of stories Hes had told me over the years, trying to think of ones I hadn’t heard fully. “How about...your favorite battle from the clone wars?”

“Hmm...nah, nope, let’s not” she said flatly. Hes really didn’t like talking about her life during the clone wars. All she’d tell me is that she and her friends fought alongside the Republic, but they went their separate ways after it became the Empire. I still wanted to know about it, though—I tried to think of times she’d mentioned that might reveal some stuff, but none came to mind.

Finally, I decided on a topic—one I’d heard about more than any other, but one I loved nonetheless. “Can you tell me more about mom and dad?”

Hes got a lot more alert at their mention. “Oh, man, I never get tired ‘a talking about them,” she laughed, kicking her feet up and crossing her arms behind her head, all while staring blissfully up at the ceiling. “Anva and Naj were the best: great warriors, inspiring leaders—it was said that they were about the strongest pair ‘a Zabraks this side ‘a Iridonia,”

Oh, yeah, I don’t think I’ve talked about that yet. Unlike the other Angels, I wasn’t a Devaronian, per se. I’m a Zabrak: half Iridonian on my mom’s side, half Dathomirian on my dad’s. Most people didn’t seem to mind, though. I mean, someone called me “tatt-brat” once—Hes threatened to castrate him for it, that’s another long story—but besides that I like think I fit in fairly well. To most, the fact that I have horns and want a free Devaron is enough.

“Even though she was barely 18,” Hes continued, more reminiscing than telling a story, “Anva led the Republic army to some of its greatest victories, everywhere from the siege of Bestine to the battle of Ord Janon. And Naj,” she laughed to herself, seemingly remembering something about my dad, “Naj wasn’t much of a strategist, but boy could he fight,” she talked about their adventures for good ten more minutes, everything about battles they fought together to especially eventful trips to the nearest Biscuit Baron chain. I was enjoying the stories, but they weren’t what I wanted to hear about right then.

“Hes, c’mon, I already know mom and dad could fight,” I piped up, interrupting her trip down memory lane. “What were they actually like? You know, off the battlefield?”

Hes smiled, and she once more picked up her nostalgic tone. “They were the greatest friends I could’ve asked for—I see a lot ‘a them in you, actually,”

I’d been starting to doze off as she spoke, but at this I instantly perked up. “Really?”

“Mhm,” Hes replied, “You’ve got your mom’s moxie; all her smarts, all her drive and determination—you got the soul of a revolutionary, just like her,”

“Wow,” I said, though it came out as more of a yawn. “What about dad? Am I like him?”

Hes chuckled. “You’re definitely as sweet as he was, and definitely as cute—’bout as big of a softy, too,”

“Wait, what? You were just saying he was a great warrior!”

“He was! Just because someone can fight doesn’t mean they’re naturally some emotionless badass—I mean, look at me, some nights I’m fightin’ the Empire and some nights I’m watchin’ holo-dramas in my pajamas” We both stopped to have a laugh at that one. I once caught Hes watching Cataclysm Prism 4 at two in the morning—totally unironically, I might add—and I haven’t let her live it down since. It became sort of an inside joke between us; she still maintains that it’s good, but I and the rest of the galaxy disagree.

As our laughter subsided, we both went silent for a few moments. I could tell Hes was just falling asleep, but for me it was all the thoughts swirling in my tired mind. Finally, I asked the biggest question I had. “Hey Hes?” I said, quieter than before.

“Hm...yeah?” she replied groggily, evidently half-asleep already.

“Do you think mom and dad would’ve liked me?” I asked. “Like, if they could have met me now?” I hadn’t seen my parents since I was three years old. They died—and as the story went, they died protecting me. A group of slavers were contracted to find a Zabrak child for one of their clients, and so they came after me. My mom held them off and was killed in the fight, allowing my dad to escape with me. He came to Devaron immediately after and handed me off to Hes, then he left to try and lead the slavers away. The plan was for him to come back and get me once he lost them—and if he didn’t come back in three rotations, he told Hes to assume the worst. He never came back. So Hes decided to take me in—even then, the Angels had plenty of food, water, medicine, and protection, so she figured I’d be safest with her. I’m alive now, so I guess she made the right choice. To be honest, I don’t even fully remember mom and dad—I just get little flashes of memories once in a while. Sometimes it’s being held by dad. Other times it’s mom sitting with me, trying to teach me to talk. Still, even though I barely remembered them, I still missed them a lot—is that normal? I dunno.

Finally, after a long pause, Hes answered my question. “They would’ve loved you, Cer,” she said, the truth in her voice evident even through her sleepiness, “They loved you then, and they’d love you now”

I smiled. “Thanks, Hes”

“Mhm…” she barely whispered before finally drifting off to sleep. With a final yawn, I began to do the same. As I snuggled deeper under my covers, my mind continued to wander, yet with each passing moment my thoughts faded into sleepy fuzziness. My final thoughts before I drifted off were of the next day’s mission—of how excited I was for it. Of how it’d finally be my chance to become a great soldier, just like mom and dad.

If only I could’ve known what I was really stepping into.


End file.
